How to raise a Hero
by moonlitememories
Summary: Chris wasn't expecting to be a father, or to have to deal with anything that Jim did. He learned though, because he was good like that. Contains: rape, child abuse, sexual assault against a minor, violence and character death
1. Chapter 1

**_Authors note:_**

_It seemed easier to do it this way, took up less space in the actual story and this way I know hey, at least some of you might actually read this damn thing. Which would be nice, but its not mandatory so I get why these get skipped a lot. I tend to read them, because the author took the time to make it, but oh well._

_Anyway, hello, any of you that follow me will notice that I've put 'Can we keep him, Daddy?' on hiatus because I'm really just not feeling it? Probably going to rewrite it whenever I get back around to it, but I've got this instead that I've been dancing around for the past few months, and ever since I saw Into Darkness, I decided I knew what I wanted to do with it to start it. _

_I've always had a soft spot for the AU that Jim and Spock met as children, because it would have done them both a world of good, but another one that's always been dear to me is the whole 'Kirk was raised by...' and it either ends up being Chris or elder Selik. Well, in my case, I'm going to do Chris, in a bit of memorial because that man had no reason to die, there was no need for that cmon JJ. _

_I've got some things planned for this, the usual AU trip that those always throw us on, and I'm hoping that people decide to stay with me on this. This story isn't Chris!centric though, so don't get your hopes up/worried. We'll still see it from Chris's side, but this is a story about Jim and Spock, so._

_No promises for how often updates will be, I kind of get to them when I get to them, but I'll try to make the chapters long to make up for it._

**_I should probably put a warning in here that parts of this story aren't happy for anyone involved, and so trigger warnings, ect: _This story contains sexual abuse of a child, rape, violence and character death.  
**

_There we go, now, enjoy~_


	2. Chapter 2

At twenty-seven years old, sleeping in on leave was something that had yet to lose its novelty.

He loved his ship, he did, and the vastness of space was a beautiful thing to behold no matter the time of day, but there was something wonderful about sleeping in his own bed, in his own apartment. Sleep that lasted for more than six hours, completely undisturbed by any comms from the Bridge or a Red Alert was a perfect thing made even better by doing said sleep in the place where everything started.

San Fran was surprisingly quiet in its misty darkness, with a shroud of cool air settling over the bay and drifting between the buildings, crawling slowly like it didn't have a care in the world. No rush, none of the bustle of the kind of day that came with Command, none of the demands or requests or tiresome meetings to be had. Darkness was a precious thing, a peaceful thing, and he embraced it readily.

Yet, for a reason he couldn't fathom, Chris found himself blinking at his side wall with bleary eyes.

It was dark in the room, wonderfully so, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, except, he was awake, and that was strange. Brow furrowing, he let out a low, gruff grumbling sound against his pillow, pushing with his elbows till he was suspended above the mattress. Just a bit, just enough to look down and make sure he hadn't woken up from something embarrassing, but there was nothing sticky, no wetness that had his boxers clinging to his thighs.

The little clock on the bedside table blinked at him with angry red numbers.

2.49 AM

Groaning, flopping back down, lost as to why exactly he was awake, he glared into the darkness before he saw it.

A bright glow emitted from his communicator, followed by a chirp that was startlingly loud in the quiet room, and the Lieutenant commander cursed as he pushed himself up enough that he could reach out for it. The metal of it was cold in his hand, and he bounced his fingers against it as he struggled to answer it, squinting.

"Pike."

"Officer Pike, this is Dr. Tumelo, I'm the Head Pediatric Specialist here at Riverside Memorial."

Riverside.

Riverside was in Iowa.

George's boy was in Iowa.

Sitting up, any trace of sleep vanishing quickly as a sharp wakefulness settled into his system, Chris swung his feet off the edge of the bed so he could sit, more alert even in the darkness. Rubbing at his face, pulling at the skin to push himself the last little bit so he was good and awake, he cleared his throat.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?"

There was a brief pause on the other side of the communicator.

"Sir, we have a situation, and since you've been recently listed as his Emergency Contact, I'm obligated by state law to inform you before I contact Child Services. Usually, we would contact the Mother, but her information can't be found in our system, and you were listed as his E.C."

He didn't remember being informed of the contact change, knew for a fact that Winona couldn't stand him enough to let him have more than a day's worth of interactions with Jim, didn't even know if she let the boy have the letters and cards and pictures he sent his Godchild. He couldn't picture her putting his name down for an Emergency Contact, even if she was off planet, she had a new husband for that.

"What happened?"

A stupid question, he knew that without having to ask that he wouldn't get any pertinent sort of information out of the man, not over a communicator. Pushing up to his feet, swaying a bit like he always did, Chris made work of pulling on a relatively fresh pair of jeans. Buttoning them, knees catching in the fabric, he balanced the comm. against his shoulder as he kicked up a shirt, grasping the edges of it with his fingers when it was in range.

"I'm afraid that's a matter that needs to be discussed in person, Sir."

Sighing, dropping the comm. to the bed for a moment to pull the shirt over his head, he swiped it back up with quick fingers.

"Don't contact Services." Pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated and irritated, feeling more than just a bit sick with worry at the thought of what could have possibly happened to the boy, Chris let out a breath. "I'll be there in a few hours."

"Thank you, sir."

-o-

The first shuttle to Riverside, Iowa, left at 3.15 AM.

Living ten minutes from the shuttle bay, not counting for foot traffic or the fact that he couldn't seem to find his credit chip on him so his badge would have to do, that gave Chris five minutes to get his wits about him by the end of the conversation and sprint.

Somehow, miraculously, he'd made it onto the shuttle with a minute to spare, the doors sealing shut behind him and the craft moving forward with a sudden, jarring motion. He'd stumbled, cursing a bit as he'd grabbed for one of the empty seats, dropping down into it as quickly as he could.

The ride itself, five hours long, had given him a chance to contact Archer and explain that he had a family emergency, just encase anything came up with Command.

The ride had been quiet, eerily so, in a foreboding sort of way. Hunched over as much as the safety belts had allowed, forearms on his knees and his hands clasped together, Chris had taken the five hours to think. Face furrowing into a frown, his thoughts had taken him far away, allowing him to think of scenarios and things he would rather not speculate upon. Surely, he'd decided, nothing that bad could have happened to a six year old boy.

-o-

The heavy, cold coil of worry in his gut hadn't agreed with him however, staying firmly in place even once he'd gotten off the shuttle.

Riverside, it turned out, was much the same as it had been all those years ago when he'd tried to come and pay his respects to one Winona Kirk. The sky was still clear and blue, and all around, any place that wasn't taken up by a building or a road was a sprouting, swaying field of wheat or corn. Tall golden stalks, standing proud in the crisp morning air in a lazy, unbothered manner.

Riverside Memorial wasn't that hard to find either, the only hospital that the town had, stretching up above the buildings with its cement and its glass, brightly lit and shining like a beacon in the morning light where the sun reflected off of it. It was sleek and warm, a large building that offered its own brand of comfort with the letters printed boldly on its face, broadcasting its name better than the small sign at the front did.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his 'Fleet jacket, hastily grabbed and appreciated to the crisp, morning air, Chris kept his shoulders straight as he walked past the automatic doors.

The reception hall was spacious, floors glittering a soft tan color and the walls painted a pleasant, rich red that stretched on and on. The wall before him was a curve, the center point where the hospital seemed to section off from, two wide halls shooting off from either side and one stretching around behind the semi-circle wall of privacy that had been made. Two receptionists sat at their consoles behind the curving counter, just below eye level and tapping away efficiently at their screens.

"Is there anything I can help you with today, sir?"

He hated hospitals.

Med bays were tolerable, he was rarely there, never there long even when he was in one, but hospitals were another thing.

Pushing a bit of a smile onto his lips, enough to be courteous in response, he tipped his head to her. A pretty thing, as old surely as his mother would have been, with green eyes surrounded by laugh lines and brown hair with streaks of gray peppering its way through her loose ponytail. A few wrinkles framed her mouth, lines from smiling and laughter, and there was a bit of a crease in her forehead that was maternally soothing.

He wasn't used to that sort of thing.

"If you could, ma'am. My names Christopher Pike, I'm here to see Dr. Tumelo?"

The smile that she had softened, dipping down a bit at the edges before she caught it, and that, coupled with the sudden look of sympathy in her eyes, had his shoulders tensing.

"You're going to take the turbolift on my right, third floor. I'll tell him you're coming, dear."

Nodding, stiff, he gave her another gracious smile before sweeping away, mind whirling with the thought that, surely she was just being a compassionate old woman?

The turbolift moved quickly, jostling him only a little as its doors slid back open. Before him, younger than the woman downstairs but older than him, stood an African American man, with kind dark eyes and glasses perched on his face. White fabric stretched across his shoulders, the usual color of medical staff coats, but the scrubs he wore underneath were a cheery sort of pale green. The look on his face was honest, open and sincere, and Chris felt that same uneasy something clench in his stomach.

"Officer Pike?"

Nodding, tongue caught in his throat, he felt a growing bit of horror as the man's expression softened into sympathy, and the doctor gestured with a hand down the fairly empty hall.

"My office is probably the best place to discuss this."

Footsteps echoing, Chris followed behind the other man, noticing with a bit of glee that he was taller, even if the other man was broader by a bit. It was a distraction, one he usually implored when he didn't want to think about something, but that method of distraction did nothing to help when the door was shut behind them and the doctor moved to lean on the desk.

"Please, sit."

Lips thinning, he gave the man a strained smile.

"No offense, I think I'd rather stand."

"Fair enough." The man stopped, taking a breath as if to steady himself, and then Chris found himself wishing he'd never started to speak. "Earlier today, James Kirk was brought into the E.R. with several broken bones, slight head trauma and evidence of asphyxiation, as well as severe internal rectal tearing. He's currently been sedated, and I've also put him on a Dilaudid drip, since we've discovered he's allergic to other pain medications. We've got him under both dermal regenerators and a series of bone regenerators, and I can assure you that James is currently in no pain. However, local authorities have been called in to collect evidence, and a rape kit was issued while he was under the sedative to best keep him calm."

The bitter taste that had formed in his mouth now tasted like bile. Wobbling, his legs folded, knees bending, and before he really knew what was happening, Chris found himself seated in the proffered chair. Chest tight, heart pounding, the taste of bile felt like it would work itself free, and the young Lieutenant commander clasped a hand over his mouth to fight it.

A hand fell to his shoulder, wide and light, gentle, like the man was used to this sort of thing, and he felt the faint squeeze.

"I'm going to have to ask you to breathe for me, Officer Pike, or I'll be forced to put you on a sedative, and that is hardly what James needs right now."

Nodding, his chest filled, and thought the bitter, bile taste was still there, he spoke through his fingers, words slow and rough.

"Can I see him?"

There was another squeeze, and the man's voice was soft in turn as he spoke.

"Of course you can. Don't expect much from him for the next few hours, not until the sedation wears off, but it'll be good for him to have you there when he wakes."

After a few minutes, of thinking and trying to keep himself from being sick, Chris pushed himself to his feet once more. Before him, Dr. Tumelo gave him a kind smile, just as open and honest as the first one had been, and he felt himself relax a bit despite himself. Nodding to the doctor, throat flaring and his stomach still clenched tight, he followed close as the man led him back into the hallway once more.

He couldn't hear his steps, not now, not when his mind was a ruckus of anger and concern. Instead, his heart was pounding heavily in his ears, and the same bitter feeling swept over him once more, causing his fists to clench and his chest to heave on a breath.

James T. Kirk was printed in the clean, crisp print that the holoscreen's always showed, and it flickered between the young boys name and the room number every few seconds. Taking a breath, giving a nod to Dr. Tumelo, he watched as the door was pushed open, and the other man let him in first.

Past the space where the bathroom was, tucked into the corner, was a large hospital bed, with a thick woolen blanket folded half way up to cover its occupants waist. The skin that was visible, what little skin there was on such a small body, was made dark with bruises that had only just begun to turn a sickly blue-green color with the accelerated healing. The large hospital dermal generator was suspended above the small boy, and his shock of blond hair was hidden by a regeneration cap that had been carefully fitted over his skull.

Swallowing thickly, watching as the boys chest rose and fell, Chris' throat worked on a harsh breath.

"Where's his mother?"

"We were hoping you'd be able to tell us that, sir." Another steady pat on his shoulder, but he refused to look away from the boy, and instead, gave a bit of a grunt. "I have other patients I must see to now, but I'll be here should anything happen."

And then he was alone in the hospital room, fighting the urge to be sick as he watched his Godchild sleep the kind of sleep that only hospital medication could cause.

-o-

It didn't make it any easier to look at the boy when he was sitting, hurt worse actually, to be closer to that broken little body, but he'd sat after barely ten minutes of standing. It wouldn't do any good, he'd decided once he'd thought about it, to give the boy a fright because someone was standing over him when he came to. From what Chris knew, the kid had already been through hell, and he didn't want to make it worse by scaring him anymore, not when the kid obviously trusted him.

Fists curling, he sighed, shaking his head even as he rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.

The kid trusted him, and he'd never once had a face to face interaction with the little guy, wouldn't recognize the kid if he didn't look so much like his childhood and academy friend that it hurt. The kid needed someone to trust, since obviously he couldn't rely on his mother, the woman who was still out of contact and evidently in deep space orbit according to Archer. Couldn't trust the man Winona had married, not since Dr. Tumelo had come back to him with more information an hour ago, gently telling him how there had been evidence of rectal scaring, meaning that it had happened more than once. DNA identification had come back, but the doctor had denied telling him till the police released the evidence, but that didn't matter, Chris didn't need a name, he already knew.

The kid was only six, and Winona had been re-married for the past five years to a bag of filth that even a Ferengi wouldn't touch. More often than not, the woman was out in the black, hiding from her problems and the fact that she had children, leaving Samuel and James with her new husband to care for. And some care it was, Chris decided with a quiet grunt and another curl of his fingers, muscle in his jaw jumping angrily.

He'd just found out from Dr. Tumelo, who'd gathered the news from local authorities, that Samuel had disappeared at least a month ago, leaving James alone to fend for himself against the thirty-four year old Frank Carlton.

That was where it had come to a head then, he knew without even needing to ask, because if this had been going on for years and no one had noticed, then the man had been good at making the boys hide it. With Samuel gone, James would have taken the brunt of the attacks, and he'd heard about how the week before the boys had driven George's old car off the canyon side. Damn thing had been all over 'Fleet news, had been impossible not to hear, and there'd been a picture of the kid that the reporter had managed to snap before he'd disappeared, covered in dirt and bruised and grinning that infamous Kirk grin that everybody remembered from George, with those blue Kirk eyes that made him look just like his father had.

Now though, there was no sharp Kirk grin of insolence and arrogance, and those electric blue eyes were twitching behind their lids as the kid started to come to, and a quiet whimper fell from his lips, small brow furrowing.

"You're alright James," That was a lie, the boy wasn't alright, not yet, he wouldn't be for the next few hours, not till the regenerators and the medicine worked their courses through his system to mend his broken, scarred skin and fight any infection. "You're not alone."

That at least was a truth, and he watched as the boy tensed, and the machine monitoring his heart started to pick up even as his small body scrunched a bit in the bed. Familiar eyes were staring at him then, wide and more haunted looking than George's had ever been, but they looked the same. The ring of pale white blue around the edges, the star-burst of it around the pupils, and the vibrant sky color in-between that stared at him just as unblinkingly as George always had. The bruises had mostly gone away, a faint bit of discoloration around the thin skin on his wrists, and he'd caught a glimpse of the angry flesh on the boys thighs when the nurse had come to check, but he'd turned away with a heave in his stomach.

The kid was watching him with a wide eyed bit of distrust and anxiety, his entire body trembling even though he didn't make a sound, and it struck Chris then that the boy probably didn't have a clue who he was, not with his drug induced state.

"My names Christopher Pike, and I'm going to take care of you from now on, alright?"

He didn't know what he had expected, a nod maybe, more silence, but not the reaction he got. No, instead of a shaky nod or silence, he listened as the monitor sped up to an alarming speed and the six year old started to sob. Harsh, hiccuping sounds that shook his whole body and the bed with him, his face turned splotchy and red and his eyes shut tight against it. He held his arms out, palms forward and his fingers stretched wide, seeking comfort even though Chris knew he was practically a stranger, but the kid looked so helpless, so relieved, so like George from when they were younger, that he couldn't deny him.

So he got up from the chair, 'Fleet jacket still over the back of it, and sat on the edge of the bed instead, careful of the wires that ran into sun golden skin. From there, he gathered the kid in his arms, a moment of hesitation on his part that James didn't seem to care about, arranging himself in Chris's lap and clinging tight like he was scared the older man would disappear.

The hiccuping cries were being made against his throat then, and he leaned back against the headboard even as he held the boy tight, soothing a hand over his shaking back to try and calm his breathing. He didn't know how to handle this sort of thing, hadn't comforted a child since his sisters had been young enough that a kiss could fix a scraped knee or a bruise. He held on tight though, rocking them back and forth as the kid cried, arms banded around him protectively even when his breathing calmed down and the tears started to dry on his neck and chest.

"I d'n have'ta go back?"

The words were muffled against his throat, but he could hear them all the same, could feel the slight shake that still ran through the kid, and he shook his head.

"No, you don't ever have to go back there."

The little body sagged against him, and he felt the way the kids hands clenched tightly into the white fabric of his shirt, like he would never let go.

"Why me?"

He asked after a moment, unable not to, knowing that the boy would know what he meant. Kirk's were smart, and he had no doubt that James would be smart like his father had been, if not smarter still. The boy would know why it'd been changed, maybe even who had changed it.

"You're safe."

They stayed like that even after the boy had calmed down, and even after he'd fallen back asleep, exhausted from the medicine and crying. He didn't have the heart to move the kid, not when he seeped up Chris's warmth and started to drool against his collar, and he didn't know how long they sat there, not until Dr. Tumelo quietly re-entered the room and watched them with a bit of a smile. His face was kind, and his words were quiet, and Chris was immediately thankful for it, knowing already that undisturbed sleep would be a rare thing in the kids future.

"The police have Carlton in custody, and their waiting for Starfleet to get back in contact before they made any decisions. No contact has come from Winona, but there's a call waiting for you from Captain Archer, something about your communicator being off?"

He shrugged, the slowest he could make the motion as to not disturb James, and he stilled when the kid let out a quiet snuffling sound in his sleep.

"It would have woke him."

There, Dr. Tumelo smiled again, giving him a nod of his own.

"I suppose it would have," He paused, watching the two of them with a professional, thorough kind of scrutiny that left Chris feeling painfully exposed, and his grip tightened on James just a bit. "The next few months are going to be very difficult, for both of you. Now, I'd advise that you answer the call from Captain Archer."

"Thank you, Dr. Tumelo."

Pausing, turned so his back was to them, the man angled his head, suddenly appearing younger than Chris even, and his smile was different when he offered it this time.

"Call me Azriel, Mr. Pike, I've been assigned as James' primary physician for the rest of the foreseeable future."

He was gone then, just as quietly as he had come, and Chris was left alone with his thoughts and the boy in his arms.

-o-

"Pike."

"Chris, took you long enough."

A pause.

"How is he?"

"I'm sure you have the file sir, since this is suddenly 'Fleet business."

"He's the son of a war hero, of course this is 'Fleet business. And I've read the damn file, Chris, but I want your opinion."

Quiet settled upon them, and a rustling sound filled the air as he shifted the boy around a bit, still holding him securely to his chest with one arm. The bruises were gone, and the regenerators had all been removed, exposing that golden shock of hair once more. He could count the boys ribs with his fingers, and could feel the knobs of his spine against the inside of his arm, and Chris filed all of it away for later.

"Kids been living with a child rapist while his mother frolics off in the black, how do you think he's doing Jonathan? Christ, I don't even know why I'm listed as his emergency contact, but I'm not going to complain."

"We got a hit from our medical database that his contact information was changed three days ago in the middle of the night from a home terminal based off the signature."

Winona had been in space for months.

"Sir?"

"It's an amateur hack to change information, but it would take months of observation and practice to get through our firewalls for even a professional. Team lead is saying it was an inside job."

Staring down at the boy with a furrowed brow and a frown, Chris went quiet, watching the kid breathe and soothing his fingers across his ribs when James' breathing hitched.

"You think he did it?"

"He's a Kirk, I don't think there's anything they can't do at this point Chris."

Puffing his chest, he nodded, listening to Jonathan breathe on the other side of the line. He was so used to his Captain's presence that it was strange to be without it, and he found himself falling in tune to listen to the man even though he was hundreds of miles away.

"Admirals have given you emergency custody."

"What?"

There was a sigh, and he closed his own eyes, shifting the sleeping weight on him as the boy made another snuffling sound against his throat and burrowed closer into his chest. He was still drooling, a sticky, slow stream of it, and it was making the shoulder of his shirt damp, and his skin was going to smell tangy like saliva when it dried. He didn't mind though, just held the sleeping six year old all the same.

"Winona is out of contact for the remainder of their mission, and all next of kin are deceased. Regardless of the fact that the boy changed you to his contact without your knowledge or Winona's permission, the only other accessible contact he would have had would be Frank Carlton, and that's unacceptable given the information we now have."

Grunting, he pulled his arm back to shift the boy around so he was in a more comfortable slouch.

"How long is Winona out?"

"They embarked on their five year mission six months ago Chris, Winona's out till the boys eleventh birthday, assuming nothing goes wrong."

Humming, falling quiet, his fingers grazed the knobs of that bony spine, and he shifted till the boys head was pillowed on his shoulder. Suddenly then, his neck was cold, from the lack of warm breaths and the fact that the patch of drool was exposed to the temperate room air. Looking down at the kid, trusting him even though he didn't know him, relying on him even though he'd already been used and abused by the man in his life, a hand was still clenched in his shirt. Even in sleep, James refused to let him go, terrified that he would leave.

"What's the process for applying for guardianship and sole custody?"

San Francisco was roughly 1,900 miles away, with rivers and fields and mountains between them, but he could still tell that Jonathan was smiling without having to see it. There was a creaking sound, like the man was leaning back in his desk chair, and a clank from the spoon in his morning coffee.

"Applications have already been sent to your personal padd."

"Thank you." The boy was finally comfortable, enough that soft snuffing sounds were his breathing and the drool had started up again. Chris sighed, a smile touching his lips, and he tipped his head back against the wall behind him with the communicator held in one hand on James' knee. The kid was sleeping right through it, feeling safe enough that he wasn't even bothered by their voices. "Board not think Winona's fit anymore?"

"She was planet side six months ago, Chris, and medical report says that he had enough scar tissue for this to have been going on for years. Board's starting to whisper that Winona knew."

"You're shitting me."

His grasp tightened on James a bit, and the boy let out a sharper sound before they both relaxed, one in sleep and the other because he had to, couldn't afford to get angry.

"She hasn't been the same since the Kelvin incident, but no one ever thought she was this bad. She's already listed for a psych eval when they dock next, and she'll be brought before the Command court when they get back planet side."

"Fuck."

"Exactly."

"He can't go back to her, Jon."

Another clank, and then the muted thump of the mug being sat down.

"Regardless of how her eval comes back, the courts won't let her have him. We have intergalactic members on the Command board, and you know how most species take to forms of child abuse."

"So I get sole custody."

"Congratulations, you're a father!"

Looking down at the boy that he held, twenty-one years his junior and clinging to him with a fearful sort of hope even as he slept, trusting a man he didn't know, Chris let out a slow breath. The boy was small for his age, and even though the bruises and the cuts had all been healed from his skin, he knew that they were something he would be able to see for the rest of his life. Grip tightening a bit, he pressed his fingers to the boys hair, blonde like George's had been, and he gave it a gentle ruffle.

James rewarded him a snuffling sound in his sleep.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

-o-

He came to a few hours later to the sounds of Azriel in the hallway arguing quietly with someone. Something about privacy, and letting the patient relax after his trauma, but then the door was opening. Light and sounds filtered in from the hallway, sharper than the quiet air that they had around them, and in his arms, James let out a quiet whimper, body tensing.

Arms tightening around the small bundle that was turning into his, the application forms staring at him on the padd that had been in his jackets inner pocket, Chris shifted his weight so he was between the door and the boy a bit more. Against him, the young boy made another unhappy sound, and his brow furrowed into a frown that drew one to Chris's face in turn.

In the doorway stood a man in uniform, police brown like the few officers in Riverside wore, and he had the sense to look ashamed of himself.

"Sir, I'm going to have t-"

"You wake him, and so help me God, I will pull rank against you."

Puffing up, the look of shame went away, and was replaced with a look of insult instead. In response, he felt himself sneer, lips pulling back with it, and his eyes narrowing. This was George's boy, his boy, and he'd be damned if he let an over paid bumpkin take away the only peaceful sleep the boy had no doubt seen in a long time.

"Mr. Pike, I'm afraid you don't have much say here."

"That's Lieutenant commander Pike to you, and in case you don't know who you're dealing with, this boy is the son of George Kirk, greatest War Hero that Starfleet has ever had. And if you think you can get a statement out of him while he's under medication like this, you're going to have the entire command coming down on your head."

Voice even and low, he watched as the man visibly paled and took a step back. Behind him, Azriel had a wide look on his face, but there was an approving tip to his lips that make it obvious that someone had his back.

"You can question him when Dr. Tumelo clears him for it, but until then, get the fuck out of my sight."

The man shifted uncomfortably for a few minutes, but eventually, he nodded, looking stiff and unsure before he wandered out of the room. Relaxing only once he was gone, Chris sagged against the headboard once more, head tipping back to the wall. Eyes shut, his free hand went up and dusted through tangled golden hair when James made another whimpering sound till it died away.

"He's only doing his job, you know."

"I know, just-Jesus, kid needs all the sleep he can get right now, because I know he won't be getting any easy nights for a while."

"Neither of you will, Chris."

Grimacing, arm tightening once more as he rearranged the boy so his knee wasn't pressed to his hipbone, he sighed.

"I know."

-o-

The officer, Mr. Hensen, was back the next day, looking unsure and sheepish but he pressed all the same.

James had given the man a guarded look, fingers tangled tight with Chris's of the boys own accord, and he'd seemed to relax when he was calmly told by his guardian that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to. Still, he'd asked Chris to leave the room, a pleading look in his electric eyes, and he'd conceded with a nod and a promise that he would be right outside in the hall.

Nearly three hours later, he looked up to the sound of the door opening.

Stepping out, officer Hensen was pale, looking a bit green around the edges, and there were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there when he'd entered the room. The look he gave Chris was pained, a sharp nod and his fingers tapped against the padd under his arm in a silent way of showing that he had all he needed. And then he was gone, walking down the hall with a nod to the nurse he passed like he would rather be anywhere else.

Standing slowly, pressing his hand to the door, he paused for a moment before shaking his head and pushing the door open.

"James?"

He was sitting up, looking dwarfed in the large hospital bed, and his golden skin looked sickly pale, splotched with red around his cheeks and throat. The look he gave Chris was wide, his eyes wet and his mouth a thin line that trembled. The small sniff he made was audible, and his fingers clenched in the blankets across his lap before he lifted his hands up and held his arms out, tears streaming and his body shaking again.

"Ah, James."

Crossing the room quickly, he sat down where he'd been before, letting the six year old decide where he wanted to be draped, and then held him tight to offer comfort. A hand to the back of the kids head, he made soft shushing sounds, rocking them once more as he hiccuped and sobbed, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"I-I d'nt wanna go'b-back!"

Face scrunching, mouth twisting up and his stomach doing an unhappy flip in his gut, he gripped a little tighter.

"You won't."


	3. Chapter 3

_**"You've got a good story, but I am going to offer some info, use it as you choose. First Officer is a position, not a rank. Pike would be a senior lieutenant or a lieutenant commander since he's Archer's XO."**_

**Dear God, okay like, just gana say, the comments are ridiculously helpful, so thank you very much Amycat8733, because it helps. So I don't care if you guys think you're going to be rude if you call me out on messing up a title or something, please message it to me, because helpful people are my favorite type of people. I grew up on Star Trek, so I can say I'm a fan, but my Dad had the policy of 'show everything and explain nothing' so I can't say I'm like an expert on it. So any facts or anything that you guys think I should know because you think it would be helpful, send it to me please. Currently, I think I've fixed the First Officer vs Lieutenant Commander mistake, and God yes thank you for that. **

**Example: anything you have that you want to share on the Vulcan Embassy and how you think it works? Gimme, please and thank you.**

**Thank you all for the lovely reception I've gotten with this story, I'm glad you like it~ I saw a thing a few days ago with a Betazoid Jim, and its like, whoa thats cool, but I can't use that even though I like the thought of Jim being a Betazoid (Tangled Destinies by Keira Marcos, google it, find it, read it because its a beautiful thing). However, because I like the thought of Jim not being a psi-null person, he is going to have some attributes, due to his exposure with being born on the Kelvin and the events surrounding it. **

**I'm glad you all like Pike as his father, because I really do love the whole idea of that, and Chris would make such a good daddy, and Winona seems like such a whore in my head. And yes, this story touches on a touchy subject, because no one likes to think about child abuse, or sexual assault, but both happen, so in all honesty this is a realistic representation of those events from the knowledge that I have.**

**Reminder that while its focusing on Chris' side of things right now, this is a Jim/Spock centric story**

**Anyway, hi there, I love the reviews, please do keep telling me what you think, and keep being helpful! **

* * *

He'd made James a promise, and it was one he intended to keep.

Wide electric eyes had watched him with a pleading, trusting openness, the kind that had struck him to his core, and it had hurt. The kid looked so much like George, and he missed his friend, mourned for the loss of his Academy brother, but there was nothing he could do about that. George had sacrificed himself for the sake of hundreds, the least Chris could do was take care of his son.

James didn't deserve the sort of life he'd been having.

He'd been allowed to look at the file, even though allowed was really a loose term. He'd slipped into it on his padd, and he hadn't been flagged because of it, like they had known he would want to look. That should have warned him, and he had known it would be bad, but he hadn't taken the time to picture how bad it would have actually been. The photographic evidence, the cuts and the scars, the rippling movement of broken ribs under thin skin and all the blood, it had been enough to make him sick.

He'd closed the padd out and dropped it, wrapping his arms around the sleeping form of James and taking a moment to breathe in and calm himself.

He couldn't go back and change it, Chris knew that, but that didn't mean he couldn't wish.

Azriel had been a frequent fixture, and within an hour of officer Hensen leaving, he'd had James up and walking, to get used to the regenerated muscles in his legs. The tendons had been severed with a sharp knife, and he'd pulled Chris aside to make a mention that it was a miracle that the boy had managed to drag himself into town. He'd had to stay in the hall for a few minutes, had hung back and watched with that sick feeling back in his stomach as the small boy refused the help of the nurse to get himself down the hall.

The wide smile on the kids face had made it worth it though, the nauseous feeling and the rage bubbling in his stomach, and he'd dropped to his knees with a laugh and open arms as the kid wobbled to him, cherub face split with a grin a mile wide.

The next two days had been filled with a flurry of physical therapy and calls to command, psych evaluations and grumbles to Jon about how unfair all of this was.

And then he'd been released into Chris's care with a smile from Azriel and a gentle confirmation that he'd make the trip into San Francisco within the next month to check on his patient.

Their future was already shaded with a pending court date for whenever Command decided they had enough against the bastard, doctors appointments, and therapy sessions, and it made him feel better even as it made him feel worse because those were things James had to worry about now.

He'd asked James if he'd wanted anything, but all he'd gotten in response was a wide eyed look and a shaking, rapid nonverbal no. The clothes that he'd gotten for the kid didn't fit right, the jeans were being held up around his thin waist by a small belt and the shirt was falling off one shoulder, but they were clothes and they were new. That had seemed to placate James the most, and he'd almost cried when Chris had handed him the bag.

Standing at the shuttle station, his 'Fleet jacket was unfastened and he could feel the padd digging into his hip from the inside pocket. Up in his arms, settled with his legs wrapped loosely around his waist and his arms looped around his neck, James clung to him. He didn't have the heart to set the boy down, not when he was practically vibrating with nervous energy and he could feel that little heart pounding against his side.

"Jame-"

"Can you call me Jim?"

The words were quiet against his throat, a pleading whisper against his skin, and it had him tensing. Just how much had Frank Carlton taken from the boy, if he didn't even like the sound of his given name anymore?

Pressing his lips together, he sighed, a thick sound that he did his best to mask with a yawn. Bouncing the boy a bit, readjusting him, he gave a nod to the woman who stood at the other side of the platform.

"Yeah, I can do that."

He held Jim close as the shuttle entered the dock before them, rocking on his feet a little from the air shocks. Tufts of gold hair stood out on end, and he gave a grin at the wonder-filled gasp that left the kids lips. The hand fisted in his jacket tightened, tugged a bit, and he chuckled even as they walked forward.

Nothing was said between the two of them while he strapped the kid in next to the window seat, watching as his little legs pumped back and forth for a moment in the air before he settled. Fastening himself in beside him, he pulled the padd out of his jacket pocket once more, and balanced it on his thigh. People boarded all around them, only a few due to the early morning hour, and before long, the shuttle was jerking to life.

The buildings faded away as they moved, and the two of them watched as the corn fields passed in a blur of gold.

"You can ask."

Blinking, looking down at the boy with a furrowed brow, he found that bright blue eyes were locked onto him, and he sighed as his fingers tightened on the padd. Clearing his throat, he nodded, offering a smile.

"You don't have to agree if you don't want to, and I won't sign them if it isn't what you want," Fingers darting across the screen, it lit up to show the legal forms, already completely filled out minus the necessary signature at the bottom. "But I want to apply to be able to have custody of you."

The little head tipped, and his feet pumped in the air again.

"You'd be my Dad?"

Pausing, his heart gave a little pound at the hopeful tone in that question, and he had to press his fingers to his thigh to keep them from shaking.

"Yeah, I'd be your Dad."

Quiet, Jim didn't answer him for a few minutes, looking back down at his lap with his little mouth twisted into a frown and his hands clumped together. Quiet sounds spilled from his throat, like a conversation he wouldn't say, and he made a jerky nodding motion after a moment that looked like it was more to himself than anything else. Eventually, he looked back up though, and there was a little smile on his face.

"Alright."

Grinning in response, he tipped the padd so Jim could see it, and used the stylus to scrawl his name across the line on the bottom of each form, mindful of the bright gaze that watched his hand.

-o-

San Francisco suddenly seemed like a giant death trap now that he had a child.

The instant they'd stepped out of the shuttle and into the dock, the noon rush had been well underway, and he'd been jostled to the point he'd almost lost Jim's hand. Before the boy could cry out however, he ducked, scooping him up into his arms and swinging Jim about so he could be high up on his shoulders. A wince as little fists clenched in his hair, but the kid relaxed when he realized he wasn't going anywhere. Holding onto the little feet that thumped against his chest, Chris gave a nod, feeling it before he heard it as a giggle came from the kid.

"Alright, what do you say we get out of here and get some lunch?"

The fingers tightened in his hair a bit, but he didn't wince this time around, and instead, he tapped his fingers against the kids shoe, waiting patiently. There was a hole, right under the toes, he could feel it with his thumb, and it made him sigh. Kid couldn't have holes in his shoes, not in a place like San Francisco.

"I can have food?"

His fingers tightened, and something in his chest tightened. The file on his padd had made explicit note of him being malnourished, and he had witnessed it in the way that he could count those little ribs, but he hadn't really let himself think much on it because Jim hadn't said anything. Now though, the quiet, startled wonder in the boys voice had him feeling another coil of anger and upset in his stomach that he had to tamper down.

"Anything you want."

He meant it too, especially when he felt the kid inhale deeply against the back of his head, and his fingers clenched like he couldn't believe that he was actually going to be able to eat. Tapping his fingers against thin ankles, Chris weaved them through the crowd, listing off the food options that they had in the city, starting with the things close to the station that he was familiar with before working his way out. There was nothing strange about the picture they made, a father with his son on his shoulders, and Chris knew that no one would stare at them, but it felt strange to him, and he almost felt like they should. Because just a few days ago, he hadn't had a kid, and the last person who had been on his arm had been an Andorian girl who had been gone by the next morning.

"Can we get pizza?"

It was hesitant, like he expected Chris to say no, so he answered as quickly as he could, climbing them up the stairs. People crowded around them, brushing against his arms, and he squared his shoulders a bit, lifting them so Jim was higher above the sea of heads.

"We can always get pizza."

Pizza wasn't on the list of allergies that Azriel had illustrated out for him, a list that he had done his best to memorize before their release just to be on the safe side.

Bouncing the kid on his shoulders a bit just to hear him laugh, Chris kept a steady grip on him as they got to the ground floor of the shuttle station, and the automated doors slid open before them. A sharp inhale from above his head, and then the kid was quiet, and his fingers went slack against the top of his head.

"Okay up there Jim?"

He felt the jerking motion the kid made as he nodded, and he tapped his fingers against one bony ankle, waiting for an answer.

"This is so _awesome_."

Grinning, chuckling, he puffed a little at the awe in the kids voice. Death trap or not, it was his city, his home, and the kid that was going to be his kid thought it was awesome. And really, he supposed it was, if he separated himself from it and looked at it like he did when he'd been out in the black for months. The buildings were sleek, shining metal that went up into the sky and gleaming windows that reflected the sunlight. Hovercars zipped past on the street, and aliens of all breeds walked past them, blending in due to the fact that they were all different. Within view, between the tall buildings of downtown, he could see the distinguished, curving form of the Academy and Starfleet HQ, glistening with metal and glass and white stone.

The memorial for George was up there, and he made a silent vow to take the kid up there soon.

"Think it'll be a good home town?"

A wiggling motion as the kid scrunched himself down, and then his chin was digging into the top of Chris's head with a sharp point that he found he didn't mind.

"The best."

-o-

His apartment had been rearranged a bit while he'd been gone, and the request he'd given Jon had gone through just fine it seemed.

The room that had been his office hadn't changed much, not really because the paint was still the same and there was still a coffee stain in the carpet, but it was obvious that it wasn't an office anymore. Instead of his desk and his small leather sofa, there was a twin sized bed that sat against the far wall, with a pale wooden dresser set beside it. Across the room was a bookshelf, empty and waiting to be filled with whatever Jim wanted, and a lamp in the shape of the sun sat on tip of it, with little cartoonish rays spiraling off of it into the air. He'd found the sofa in the living room, squished under the window, and his desk was in his room near his bed.

A short two hours had passed since they'd gotten home, and Jim had looked around at the apartment with wide eyes like it was Christmas morning, and Chris had felt something clench in his stomach. It wasn't much, he knew that, but Jim had gone to sleep in his room like the bed was a cloud, his stomach full of pizza and a chocolate milkshake because he was determined to get some calories into the boy before the end of the week. It was small, even for a two bedroom, and he knew it wouldn't do when the kid got bigger, because it barely fit him alone.

They'd only been home a short two hours, and Jim had been asleep for roughly an hour and a half of that, curled up in his new bed with his new blankets that weren't what Chris had asked for. He'd sent a message to Jonathan some time ago, asking how much it was going to take out of his credit account, but he'd gotten a memo of 'Command covered it' and knew the man on the other end was smug like only Jon could be.

Stretched on the couch, padd in hand, he stared at the screen with a furrowed brow and a sigh.

Jim didn't need to grow up in an apartment, no matter how much the kid had said he liked the view that Chris had of downtown. The space was too small, and even though he was still being apprehensive about it, already he knew that the kid was going to be a bundle of energy. There was a bounce to his step, and his little fingers twitched whenever they passed things enough that Chris just _knew_ that the kid wanted to touch everything, and it was both refreshing and horrifying to see that some things were hereditary with the Kirk men. Regardless of the fact that the kid was going to be fill of energy, downtown San Francisco was no place to raise a child, not really, and that was something Chris had to worry about now.

Raising a child.

That was something he was doing, on his own, even though he knew Command was going to be keeping an eye on them, even if it was just for the sake of keeping Winona and Frank at bay.

Tapping at the search bar on the top of his screen, he stared at it for another moment before tapping out a query. Then, the electronic page was filled with real estate advertisements, and his lips pressed into a thin line at the sight of them. Small, all of them were small, pressed between buildings and taller than they were wider, like that was what he needed with a growing boy. Heavy traffic flow streets, and he recognized the names of them off the top of his head, knew exactly where those houses were, and while the weren't his apartment, they were still downtown.

Groaning, he flipped back up to the top, and glared at it for a moment before adding an extra zero to the end of his budget option.

The images he found then were entirely different, with porches and driveways and fences and _yards_. Actual yards, with grass and trees and space for the kid to play and run. Content, he flipped through them, brow furrowed on the sight of them as he searched still. One was too tall, the other too short, and he knew for a fact that they didn't need a three story house no matter how appealing the idea of that much space was. A two story though, that would be enough for them, with enough room for Jim to run inside when the weather was bad and not run the risk of breaking anything.

Scrolling, he paused, staring at the cream colored stucco house with its rust colored roof and its rot iron fence that lined the entire property. A rounded drive way, with the house built around the garage, and the front door was hidden behind an iron gate that gave way to the enclosed porch. A simple two story, nothing grand, and he could see the large maple trees that dotted the backyard, their tops flush and green over the roof. Surprisingly, he couldn't see the neighboring houses beside it, but that was good, that was fine. It would do both of them good to have room to stretch their legs.

Bookmarking it, Chris pulled out the street address, opening another page so he could plug it in to look a the surrounding areas.

Before it could load though, there was a high sound that split the still air in the apartment. Keening and sharp, a fearful sound, it sent a chill down his spine and the hairs across his skin stood on end even as he pushed up to his feet. Wailing, there was another one, wordless and high, stuttering around the air like Jim wasn't breathing.

Rushing out of the living room, padd forgotten on the couch, he threw the door the rest of the way open to the kids room, and paused at the bed just before he could touch him.

The blankets were a tangled mess, caught around his ankles and hooked over his knees, trapping his legs. Thin fingers were balled into fists, the tips of them digging deep into the mattress bellow, and his skin was shiny with sweat. Flushed, tears left wet paths across his skin, and while his eyes were screwed shut tight, his mouth was open wide to let out his terrified screaming sounds. Hesitating, Chris faltered for a moment, watching the way that he trembled, unsure if he should touch him. Another gasping, hiccuping sound filled the air though, ragged and without breath, and he dove forward. Arms wrapping around the kid, scooping him up, he closed his eyes and turned his head away as those little fists turned to him.

"Jim!"

The sounds of terror were still there, ear splitting and sharp, but he held on, rocking them and trying to keep the kids hands away from his face.

"Jim, Jimmy, c'mon now kid, you're safe."

Another cry, and then those eyes were open, hazy and staring at him with a breathless sort of fear, and he felt against the back of his arm as the kids chest clenched around nothing. Taking one of those fists, he pressed it against his chest, right on his lungs, and took a deep breath.

"Breathe with me Jimmy, you gada breathe with me."

A gasping sound, followed by another, and the kid was trembling, quivering where Chris held him, but slowly, his cries turned into ragged, deep sucks of air, and his lungs expanded sharply. Exhaling, relaxing a bit, he nodded, encouraging the kid as best he could as he coached him to breathe. The seconds felt like hours before Jim was breathing around his tears, staring up at him with a wet-eyed fear, and Chris clutched him against him with strong arms and a slow exhale.

"I've got you."

"I-it hurt!"

Tensing a bit, breathing through his teeth, he knew the answer to the question already, but Azriel had told him that if Jim needed to talk, then to let him talk. Swallowing, pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath and the muscles in his arms fluttering, he spoke slowly.

"What hurt, Jimmy?"

"He wa-was here, and he wou-wouldn't stop! I-I told him I di-didn't want to, th-that it hurt, but he wouldn't sto-stop and i-i-it-!"

Jim broke off with another gasping sound, pulling for air, and Chris tucked the kids head under his chin, rocking them. Eyes closed, expression pinched tight and his fingers aching with the urge to hunt down Frank Carlton and kill the man, he kept a hold of the boy instead.

"You're safe now, alright Jim? I won't let him hurt you, not ever again."

Against his throat, there were wet puffs of air, sharp crying sounds that were muffled against the flesh there. His shirt grew wet, his skin damp and sticky, but Chris just held tighter and rocked them, muttering into the kid's hair that everything was alright, everything would be fine. And the minutes dragged on like that, with Jim clinging to him like his life depended on it, little finger tips pressing heavy and hard against his skin, and his breathing wet with tears. Eventually, the kid calmed down though, enough that his grip loosened a bit, and Chris started to pull away.

"No!"

Instantly, he was seized back up, held tight by thin arms made strong by adrenalin and fear, and the sound Jim made was close to a wail in response.

"Ji-"

"D-don't leave me! I'll be go-good, plea-"

Smoothing a hand down the kid's back, the skin and muscles were trembling once more, and the man let out a sigh at the stark difference. He'd just managed to calm the kid down, and he didn't need him hyperventilating anymore.

"I'm just going to turn the lights out, alright?"

He meant it to be soothing, calming, but Jim only clung to him tighter, small limbs in a vice like grip around him. Shifting, moving his hold on the kid till Jim was secured against his hip and side, Chris let out a puff of air and a sigh. The kid wasn't letting go, and even for a six year old, his grip was bruising tight, and Chris knew he'd feel it in the morning.

"How about we go out to the living room?"

There was a jerking nod against his throat, and his skin was still wet, so he shifted, hefting the kid up and into the air. Holding him, keeping a grasp on him, Chris grabbed the knotted blanket from the kids bed, flapping it out before hooking it over his shoulder. Careful not to step on it, he wandered with his breathing bundle back to the living room.

His padd was still on the couch, but he swept it onto the coffee table without much trouble, and stretched out after a moment of hesitation. Quickly, Jim wedged himself between Chris and the couch, blanket pulled tight against him and his hands knotted in Chris's shirt. Arranging his legs so he wouldn't crush the kid, the older man reached his fingers out, pulling up his padd to share the image.

"Whacha looking at?"

The question was quiet, hesitant, but he smiled still, since the shiny padd had had the desired, distracting affect.

"Well, I thought we needed a new house, because you're going to get big and tall."

George had been big, wide and broad, with long arms and long legs. His jaw had been strong and his mouth had been wide, constantly stretched into a smile majority of the time from what Chris had ever known. Deep voice, body chalked full of boundless energy that had constantly come out in the for of jitters and shakes, dances and laughs, George had been filled to the brim with the kind of life that even death couldn't quench.

Jim had that same light in his eyes, dim behind trauma and the terror, but it was there.

Wetting his lips, bright eyes looked up at him, and sun darkened cheeks split a bit with a hesitant smile.

"Can I help look?"

"Of course you can."

-o-

Within another twenty minutes, Jim was fast asleep, little snuffling snores coming out from where his little face had crushed itself up against Chris's collar. There was drool on his shirt again, and his skin was getting sticky with sweat from their combined warmth. Right arm fast asleep and past the point of painful, he knew it would ache in the morning when he finally managed to be able to move it, but he didn't have it in himself to wake the kid, not when Jim was finally sleeping peacefully.

He himself was drooping, staring blearily at the padd where it was balanced on his chest, when a sharp _ping_ came from the device.

Groaning, turning his head and swiping his thumb across the screen, he stared at the message for a moment before the text cleared and he could read it.

_Carlton's gone to ground, Riverside authorities lost his trail. Keep on your toes, and keep an eye on James, Command is going to do what they can, but until he's found, our hands are tied._

_ Jon_


End file.
